Insert Author Here
by Watchman
Summary: Creating a good original character is hard... Especially with Vimes around. Heroes exist on the disk only to be made a mockery of or arrested. I really should stop doing these. Oneshot.


Another one that I'm probably gonna end up regretting. This could be made to fit pretty much any category, but I've stuck with the Discworld universe because that's what I do best.

It's a relatively short story, in that there's only this one chapter.

Unlike my Consequences and Revenge, this is not directly aimed at anyone- I'm just firing blindly into the dark. So don't be offended. I'm not talking about you.

---

**Insert Author Here**

Vimes absent mindedly picked up the coffee jug, and began to scoop some of it stodgy contents into his cup. He could now, of course, easily afford to walk across the street and buy a pleasant little latte from the shop opposite, and drink something that didn't require the aid of a knife and fork, but it just wouldn't feel right. He was a man of tradition, after all.

He noticed as someone walked past him towards the door who shouldn't be. "Leaving so early, Lance Constable Blogson?"

"Oh, yes sir. I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all, as long as you don't mind losing a week's pay for it."

The Lance Constable gave a pleasant laugh, and smiled. So did Vimes, if in a somewhat more evil manner. He thought he was joking.

"Sorry, sir, I know it's my shift, but I've got a meeting to go to. Very important. I'll be back early in the morning."

"Hmm. I don't know if anyone's told you, Lance Constable, but you happen to be working in the Night Watch. _Night Watch. _And the Night Watch tends to generally be associated with night, in case you hadn't noticed. Morning's aren't often incldued."

"Aw, Vimesey..." he said, laughingly, as if that aided the matter in some way. It did. It aided Vimes' subconscious thoughts to become even more violent. "I'm sorry I can't stay and chat, but I really do have to go. We can sort it out tomorrow." He opened the door. "Well, see ya tomorrow. Do have fun, won't you, Commander Vimes?"

The door slammed behind him, leaving Vimes alone with his pit of coffee. He smiled again. However, this time it was geniune, despite being even more evil than the first time, something that an observer may have deemed impossible. "Oh, don't worry, I will have a good time. I'll have a _very_ good time... 'Mr Blogson'_."_

_---_

Nix Shadowfire paced back and forth across the room, his long amythyst coloured hair sweeping back elegantly behind him as he did so. "Damn..." he growled. "He's late again."

Crista watched him as he continued walking. Yes, he did have a bit of a temper, but... Gods, even when he was irritated he was attractive.

"Of course he's late today, Nix, you should know that," said Dark McCloud, cleaning his sword. "It's today that... It happened."

Crista turned to face him, her ears twitching. This was news to her. "What's that, Dark?"

"You don't know?" Dark's golden eyes surveyed her for a few seconds. "...I don't know if I should really tell you. It is a private matter of his."

"Aw, pweese..."

He couldn't help but smile. It had to be agreed that there was no one cuter on the Dysk than Crista. Small and friendly, with fiery red hair cut into a boyish bob. She was a strange half-breed creature known by few, a Lyrican, but this was only obvious through her ears and tail, and the fact that she had a pet wolf which she could talk to. But even though she was not human, they did not hold it against her. After all, who could dislike her after hearing of her skill? Only sixteen, yet she was already the strongest mage in the land, despite this being a job normally reserved for men. "Well... Maybe I can tell you."

"No, it's his secret-" Nix warned him.

"She can be trusted," Dark assured him, commandingly. "...Now, Crista... You know how our leader, Marty Stu, never likes to talk about his past?"

"Yeah... I tried to ask him what his parents were like one day, but he just went silent, and walked away..."

"Yes. That is because, Crista... He doesn't have any parents."

Crista gasped, clutching her hands to her mouth. Nix looked dissaprovingly on at Dark, but his attention was then taken by Crista's sorrow. For such a beautiful thing to be upset could not help but make you notice.

"Oh, I should have known... He must go through so much pain..." Suddenly her love for Marty became even deeper. "Oh, Dark, how? How can he not have any parents?"

"Because one day, scientists in a far off country learnt of his powers. This night is the anniversary of the night that they came, killed his parents and took him away to perform experiments on him."

"Oh... Oh... That's so horrible..." She started crying into Dark's chest. "Poor Marty..."

Dark wrapped his arms around her and held her gently. Crista continued to cry, but could not help but feel warm from Dark holding her. There was just something about him that made her feel safe... She could not help but love him.

Nix shook his head. "I still say you shouldn't have told her."

"No, it's better this way," said a voice.

They all turned- and there, silhouetted in the doorway, was Marty.

He was an incredible person, you could see just from looking at him. Jet black hair, sapphire eyes, muscles- but not too many muscles, just enough to make him look lean, a scar in the shape of a sword on his cheek and a pendant around his neck. They all knew that this pendant was the only item he had that had belonged to his parents.

Seeing him stood there, dramatically, still looking strong despite having heard his secret being revealed, Crista realised how much she loved him.

"Sorry I'm late," he said with a small smile.

"You visited their graves?" asked Nix.

"Yes. Although I have no memory of them..." Subconsciously, his hand reached up and grasped the pendant on his chest. "I feel as though they are up there, somewhere... I just hope that they are proud of me."

Crista started to cry again.

"Ahum. Anyway, despite hearing about my tragic, tragic past, containing the story of a boy who was stolen from his mothers love at an age so young..." said Marty Stu, with a mournfull sigh. "Should we begin the meeting?"

"Ooh yes, lets!" exclaimed Crista, brightening up immedietely.

Marty stepped to the front of the room. "Nix, if you would please get the ledger, thank you. Now we may begin the meeting for the Guild of Self-Insertions. First of all... how many people in this city of Ankh-Morpork have you managed to become romantically attached to?"

"Ooh, let me see..." said Crista.

"I walked past that Watch Sergeant with blonde hair, and I think she looked at me," said Nix.

"That would be Sergeant Angua. A good choice. However, all she did was look at you...? That's not really good enough. Did you stride past her confidently?"

"Yes. I even made sure I was walking into the wind, so that my hair billowed out behind me. I also made a passing comment to her that I was immotal, but she didn't say anything in reply."

"Hmm..." Marty stroked his scar, something he always did whilst in thought. "The people here are hard... Those at Hogwarts and the Middle-Earth weren't nearly half as difficult as what we have here..."

"Sir, I managed to bed someone this week," Dark McCloud quickly interjected.

Marty smiled. "Really? That is excellent news! Who with?"

"I think it was with someone called Miss Barnsworth..."

Marty's smile shrank away, and he shook his head. "Oh Dark. You are a skilled swordsman, but I am afraid you have mistargeted. Remember, you are only meant to go for _important _people."

"I'l try harder next time, sir."

"Very good. Now, Crista... How have you done?"

"Let me see... The people who I targeted this week were Captain Carrot, Havelock Vetinari, Rincewind, Ridcully, Commander Vimes, the Bursar, Nobby Nobbs, William de Worde, Moist von Lipwig, CMOT Dibbler, Buddy, Ponder Stibbons, Mr TeaTime, Lord Rust, Otto Chreik, and Susan Sto Helit."

Nix's eyebrows lifted slightly in interest. "Susan Sto Helit?"

"It's good to sow seeds widely."

"Very good, very good, all are suitable love interests..." said Marty. "And how many reciprocated your advances?"

Her eyes instantaneously began to well up. "N-n-none of them did, sir!"

"I don't understand it," said Dark. "How can they all not realize how incredibly cute and attractive she is?"

"I don't know, friend. I just don't know. We'll just have to try harder from now on. Now, onto our next subject... How many of us have managed to secure a job in the Watch?"

Nix, Dark and Crista all stared guiltily at the floor. Nix was the first to speak. "It's not our fault we can't get in. It's that Vimes man... as soon as he sees us coming he starts going against us."

"He actually threw a _potato _at me once!"

"Sir, I know how important it is that we get into the Watch," said Dark, wearily, "But we just can't do it. He won't let us join. It's impossible."

"Oh, is it really...?" mused Marty, a cheeky grin on his lips that only served to make him look even more attractive. They then all instinctively knew.

"Oh sir, you haven't!"

"I have. For the past four days I have been working on the streets. Admittedly only as a lance constable, but I think it's more interesting if I have to work my way up to the top. Tragic struggles always go down well."

"How did you do it? How did you manage to get in without them noticing who you really were?"

"I said my name was Fred Blogson. Vimes doesn't expect a thing."

Managing to get a place in the Watch... It was an incredible feat. A feat that showed just how worthy their leader was. Crista then realized that she was in love with him.

"Well, so what have we got next to do?" asked Dark.

"There are still many goals for us to achieve. We still have to join a vampire to our ranks, save Ankh-Morpork from burning down, get enlisted as members of the Guild of Assasins, somehow get Severus Snape over here, make Vimes fall in love with _some _guy, defeat twenty-four evil villains and solve sixty-seven murders, organise a wedding for Angua and Carrot and persuade Vetinari to give Carrot the throne. It's going to be hard, harder than we've ever experienced, but _we can do it, _everyone. We've never failed before, and we never will."

She could contain it no longer. "Oh, Marty, I love you!" Crista gushed.

He simply smiled. "I know, Crista. I know." He turned to the rest of them. "The meeting of the Guild of Self-Insertions is over. Goodbye until next week, everyone, and good luck."

---

"There's another one," said Vimes as Dark McCloud exited the Guild into the street, and immedietely the sword master was grabbed and cuffed by no less than five Watch members. "Bloody hell, Carrot, have you seen them all?"

"What is it?"

"The scars they've got... They're all in weird patterns, like swirly marks or lightning bolts or swords or claw marks. Either the guy they were fighting only hit them in strategic places to make a fashion statement, or they stuck them on themselves with a do-it-yourself kit. And also, look at the state of their hair," Vimes continued, quite unaware that he was easily beginning to sound like a moaning old man complaining about the youths of today. "I mean, who has _green or purple hair_? It looks like the kind of thing you'd see in one of Young Sam's Lil' Reader books."

"I think it must be a thing amongst young people these days."

"Hah. Well I never was one to follow the fads. Oh, there's another one. Get them, will you please, Sergeant Detritus? Remember, you're allowed to break their little hearts, just as long as you don't accidentally break their little skulls in the process."

Carrot watched anxiously as the three that had come out already were detained somewhat more forcefully than may have been needed. He was even more anxious about how much Vimes seemed to be enjoying it. "...Sir ...Are you sure that waiting for them here with so many Watchman was really... necessary?"

"Hmm? Oh no. Not at all. Good fun, though. And I wanted to make sure the message went deep."

Carrot looked as one of them started wailing at an incredible volume as they had their precious sword wrenched away from them. No doubt passed on from a great master who trained them before dying under terrible and tragic circumstances such as having a goat landing on their head. "You know, I think it will."

It was at this point that an unsuspecting Marty Stu came out of the Guild, only to find himself being rushed at and apprehended by Vimes himself. "Good evening, Mr Blogson."

"What the..." His eyes immedietely took in the surroundings. Dark, Nix, and Crista, despite their many great skills and magical powers, unable to escape themselves from Vimes' command. "Uh... Uh... Commander, what are you doing, sir?"

"Fixing a problem the only way you can. I'm not normally a gardener Mr Stu," he stated in a conversational manner, "But my wife has been trying to get me interested in order to give me a stress-free hobby, and during my botanical studies I have found a few interesting facts. Like, for example, weeds grow differently to ordinary plants, som simply cutting them down won't kill them, as they'll just grow straight back up again. No, the only _really _way to get rid of them for good is to get _straight to the roots of the problem."_

Marty stared in a quite flabbergasted manner at the malicious face. It didn't look like a charming smile was going to get him out of this one.

"You must think I'm really thick, mustn't you. I'm used to people thinking I'm not the sharpest stick in the toolshed, but you lot have pushed the limit. Did you _really think _that by changing your name I would employ you without knowing who you were?"

"Uh..." said Marty, on this rare occasion, quite speechless. After all, he had.

"I mean, admittedly, most people may have underestimated me enough to not realise that I would only be employing you to tail you and find out where it was that you and your other freaky little friends met up, but you could have at least given me a _little _credibility."

"I don't get it!" Marty screamed, as a couple of sergeants took Vimes' place detaining him. "Why are you doing this? What have we done _wrong?"_

"Wrong?" said Vimes, fishing in his pocket for a cigar. "Carrot, would you mind doing the honours?"

Carrot nodded, and flipped open a notebook he had been carrying. "First and foremost, your mere presence causes an affray within Ankh-Morpork. As soon as there is anyone of your particular nature around, certain unfortunate things happen, ie, Ankh-Morpork burning down, strange wizards from different dimensions arriving, Vimes falling in love with someguy, twenty-four evil villains and sixty-seven murders commencing, and Vetinari considering handing the throne over to me."

"And you piss me off," added Vimes. "Never knew my parents... Tragically experimented on at a young age crap... Whole life of misery and turmoil... You lot should try getting a real eight hour job sometime. Then you'll experience _real _misery and turmoil. Take 'em away."

Vimes lit a cigar happily as they were led off towards the nearest Watchhouse, one of them still shouting on about how they had destiny and still needed to avenge their master's death. "I should have done this a long time ago."

"It is a little unfair, sir," voiced Carrot, a little anxiously. "I don't think they were really _trying _to do bad things. After all, some people do have destinies and tragic pasts. Like me, for example, I have a sword that was passed down to me too..."

"...And I'm sure you're going to save the world somehow in a great and revolutionising way, too," said Vimes, nodding. "But the difference is, Carrot, that unlike them, _you're not so bloody aware of it. _And you're ginger. I don't think you can be one of them if you're ginger."

This blase statement did hurt Carrot a little, but Vimes' seemed quite unaware and so he decided not to press the matter. "What about the building? Are you going to leave it and let some other guild take over?"

Vimes sucked air in through his teeth, staring at the building stood before them with distaste. "...Nah. More'll only come to it. I think they _spawn _from it. Better to get rid of it for good. Send a message to the Guild of Alchemist's saying that there's a place that they can use for their trainees... That'll fix it."

"Very well. Is that all you had planned for tonight? Not intending on arresting any more heroes, were you?"

_Huh. 'Heroes', _Vimes thought to himself. _They're worse than the bloody villains. At least honest villains don't try to make you think you should be pleased with what their doing. _"To be honest, I think four's enough for one night. Let's head back."

"By the way..." Vimes continued, glancing around himself just to make sure that all the former members truly had vacated the area. "Later, do me a favour and thank Angua for telling me that that Blogson bloke was actually from the Guild, won't you?"

**The End**

---

I hope this made sense. If you don't get it, do a wikipedia search on 'Mary Sue'.

So, in essence, this was just a little parody of my own dislike for Mary Sues, self insertions and other such characters. The Dysk in particular, I feel, rejects them. I'm not knocking original characters, no, not at all... Just OTT ones. You may not have to act in character when you've made you're own, but you still have to act in theme. On the discworld heroes only exist to either be made a mockery of or be arrested.

Please review.


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